


Beware Bretons Bearing Gifts,

by TourmalineQueen



Series: Rozenn the Breton [25]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crack, Gen, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 05:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: Written for Skyrim KinkmemeF!DB/Belethor, failed wooingSo my Breton DB, covered in warpaint and Forsworn furs, comes swaggering into Whiterun a little after sundown hoping to get rid of some ill-gotten goods (let's just say Vittoria's [doomed] wedding is going to be down two snooty guests I met en route to Dustman's Cairn) before she has some alone time during her proving with that hunky but simple minded Companion she's been eyeing.Of course since it's after dark there'll be no trading, but on her way to the Bannered Mare for a drink and a night's rest she happens to run into Belethor, whom she meant to see in the morning.As she goes to offer a hello (probably a longbowman's salute, because fuck that guy), out of nowhere he gruffly addresses her: "I wanted you to have this as a token of my affection. Doesn't mean we're married or nothin'."Then he hands her a red apple and goes about his merry way.DB proceeds to stare at it going "What the everloving fuck" until morning, when she awkwardly shuffles to Belethor's store which is... closed until noon.Tell me a story, nonnies. What's going on with Belethor today?





	Beware Bretons Bearing Gifts,

"You need to wear different armour, Breton, that little fur kilt is doing nowhere near enough to cover you up," Galmar grumbled as he and Rozenn strode along the plains of Whiterun Hold, heading towards the capital, and Breezehome.

Rozenn chuckled. "It protects well enough, Galmar."

"That is not what I meant and you know it," Galmar retorted. He eyed a Whiterun guard patrolling the road by Honningbrew Meadery, who was openly staring at Rozenn in admiration. Galmar growled. The guard glanced around, startled, and moved swiftly on his route.

"Galmar! Be nice," Rozenn chided. "And I don't mind a little appreciation. Makes me feel pretty."

"You're Dragonborn," Galmar argued.

"Doesn't mean I don't want to feel pretty now and then," Rozenn grinned. "And it's nice to have all these big, strong, manly Nords eyeing me up. Reminds me of home."

"I will kill anyone who looks at you like that," Galmar groused as the passed the Whiterun Stables, glaring darkly.

"Then you'll have to commit genocide of your own people. Let them look, Galmar, let them pay me compliments. At the end of the day, you and I know we belong together," Rozenn said, wrapping her hands about his big, brawny arm.

"Hmph," Galmar grunted, a half-smile crossing his face.

Inside the city gates, Galmar stood by and watched Rozenn chatting and haggling with the Imperial blacksmith, and when she finished they strolled together towards the Bannered Mare with the intention of enjoying a nice meal and some fine mead.

The moons were out and Rozenn tilted her head completely back to look up at the aurora lighting the sky, twirling on the broad footpath, laughing, while Galmar stared at her in amusement.

"Yours is a happy nature, Breton," Galmar grumbled.

"It's magical," she replied. "It's so beautiful!"

The Breton merchant, Belethor walked up to them at that moment.

"'Scuse me," he said, clearing his throat.

Rozenn took a deep breath to maintain her patience around the irritating man, and managed a smile. "Yes, Belethor? Can I help you?"

The merchant turned ruddy, and, ignoring Galmar's warning growl, cleared his throat again. He thrust a red apple into Rozenn's hand.

"I wanted you to have this as a token of my affection. Doesn't mean we're married or nothin'," Belethor said, and walked off in the direction of his house.

Rozenn blinked. She looked down at the juicy fruit in her hand, and back up at the merchant's retreating back, and back down at the apple.

"I could have him killed, you know," Galmar said lightly. "Or at least detained for questioning."

"No, no, that won't be necessary. I'll just call in to Eorlund Grey-Mane on the morrow. You were right, Galmar. I need different armour. Something much more concealing," said Rozenn.


End file.
